


Toilets and Romance and Rings, Oh My !

by vanillabeanniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, JUST LOADS OF FLUFF, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, this is so self-indulgent, trapped in the bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillabeanniall/pseuds/vanillabeanniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, no, no, no, no!” Louis whispered at the bathroom. “Not today, not when I’m home alone and about to propose!” He thought of the bouquet of flowers hidden in the backseat of his car. He thought of the little velvet box hidden in the pocket of his blazer. He thought of the shocked “o” of Harry’s face when he’d kneel down and pop the question. He thought of the kiss he’d surely get when Harry said yes.</p>
<p>Louis let out a frustrated yell. “This isn’t happening right now!” The bathroom did nothing to respond to his plea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, the one where Louis gets trapped in the bathroom and proposals never go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this one went unbeta'd so every mistake in here is my own.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Louis and/or Harry or One Direction at all and this is all a work of fiction, none of it ever happened. Probably.

Louis and Harry lived in a small apartment. It was only a few small rooms, including their bedroom, Niall’s, a bathroom off the end of the hallway, the kitchen, and the living room. They loved their apartment, and Niall did as well, and the four of them (the people and the apartment) lived happily ever after, for the most part. Obviously it was too small to be a forever kind of home, but right now, between classes and cheap jobs, it was the perfect place to spend their in between time.

 

Like any apartment, it had its minor problems. The neighbors next door were always going at it, and while they thankfully didn’t hear any moans unless they were in the bathroom, the only adjoining room to their neighbors, but the slamming of the bed against the wall got old.  _ Very _ old. The bathroom door sometimes got stuck, and when it locked you inside, the only way out was for someone on the outside to slam their way through the hallway door to free you. And the kitchen was great, especially for Harry, who loved to cook and worked in a bakery (Niall was always going on about how Harry was a keeper and what he would ever do when the couple moved out and left him all alone), but the microwave timer only worked when it felt like it (causing Louis and Niall to very nearly burn down the whole kitchen trying to make some quesadillas). Like any cheap apartment, it had its problems. But the boys loved it, and it was close to their campus and each workplace, so it was almost perfect.

 

They’d lived in this state of almost perfect for three years, during which they’d decorated and “nested,” and Harry and Louis had (finally) announced their love for each other and got their shit together, to the cheers and applause of their friends, and it was pretty damn great, really.

 

Louis had been feeling pretty damn great all day, actually, between waking up to his probable soulmate sleeping peacefully beside him, kissing Harry goodbye when said soulmate left for work, and finishing a paper on time for once while Harry was away. So Louis had an hour to kill before his love got home (and Louis whisked him out on a surprise date at a nice restaurant then a nice romantic stroll through Harry’s favorite park), and the best way to do that was some good old-fashioned FIFA and beer.

 

He was on his third beer and had won a few rounds when the liquid had made its way through his digestive tract (as these things do) and it was suddenly time to rush to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He figured he’d be done by the time Harry arrived, and he’d still get to kiss him as a welcome home sort of thing and demand Harry changes into something nice, then follow him into their bedroom and distract him as they both change. Then he’d take him out to the car, put a blindfold on him, and take him out for a surprise night of wining and dining. The two of them were so sickeningly sweet on each other; they loved doing all this cheesy, romantic shit and they just couldn’t deny each other a thing. Louis secretly loved being so whipped for Harry, and Harry secretly felt the same about him, if the little smile on his ducked head every time he agreed to do something he maybe should’ve left Louis to do himself was any indicator.

 

So Louis ducked into the small bathroom, locked the door and took care of his business, flushing and washing his hands afterwards, and unlocked the door. It all went smoothly with no problems, but of course,  _ of course _ , the door was stuck. Louis knew from experience that there was just no way the door would open when it got like this until someone from the outside came in, hopefully holding the door open behind them.

 

**the First Stage of Grief: Shock**

 

Louis stood there in front of the door for a few seconds. He just stood and stared, seemingly trying to process the firm closedness of the door. He shoved it a little. The door didn’t move (probably because you don’t push from that side). He pulled the handle. Nothing budged. He threw all his weight in as he yanked desperately on the door handle, but everything remained still.

 

**the Second Stage of Grief: Denial**

 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Louis whispered at the bathroom. “Not today, not when I’m home alone and about to propose!” He thought of the bouquet of flowers hidden in the backseat of his car. He thought of the little velvet box hidden in the pocket of his blazer. He thought of the shocked “o” of Harry’s face when he’d kneel down and pop the question. He thought of the kiss he’d surely get when Harry said yes.

 

Louis let out a frustrated yell. “This isn’t happening right now!” The bathroom did nothing to respond to his plea.

 

**the Third Stage of Grief: Bargaining**

 

Louis slowly sat down on the closed toilet, head in his hands. He shook his head, sighing. Louis peeked up at the door between his fingers. “You have to open. I’ll do anything. I have to get out there to Harry. I have to make this happen,” he pleaded with the door. “What does a door even want? I can get new keys,” he offered. “I could even repaint you. I promise if you let me out right now, I’ll get you a new handle. A nice one. Maybe even one of those pretty round ones.”

 

Louis reached for the handle and pulled, but the door still didn’t budge. He dropped down onto the floor in defeat.

 

**the Fourth Stage of Grief: Guilt**

 

Louis looked up from his starfish position on the floor.

 

“Is this some higher power punishing me for my sins? Is it a sign? Should I not propose tonight?” he sighed and lolled his head back. “This floor is disgusting. But it’s my own damn fault I’m stuck in this fucking bathroom anyway. Why did I have to play FIFA? I have like four other papers to finish and a marriage proposal to worry about,” Louis sighed. “I just wanted to marry Harry,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Is it because I’m gay?”

 

**the Fifth Stage of Grief: Anger**

 

Louis sat up. “Why are you even stopping me from doing this? Why shouldn’t I propose? What the hell makes you think I’m not going to just burn this door the fuck down and walk up to the love of my life and take him out for a fucking nice dinner? And you know what, door? I’m going to fucking enjoy it!”

 

Louis stood up suddenly and kicked the door. Aside from a satisfying slamming sound and a blooming pain in his foot, nothing happened.

 

Suddenly, there was another slamming sound from the wall opposite the door. A loud moan echoed around the bathroom. It took Louis a moment to realize it wasn’t his own moan of sadness, but the neighbor’s moan. The neighbors were having sex not three feet away from where Louis stood in the bathroom.

 

“Fuck,” Louis sighed as another moan pushed through the wall. The neighbors seemed to agree.

 

**the Sixth Stage of Grief: Depression**

 

Louis sat on the floor, curled in a ball of sadness. He was trapped in the bathroom and forced to listen to a constant soundtrack of the neighbors having sex. It was pornographic and uncomfortable, but Louis could hardly hear it anymore. The rhythmic thuds and groans had lulled him into a sort of trance.

 

Louis had basically given up. He wasn’t going to get to propose to Harry. He wasn’t going to get to take his boyfriend out to dinner and level up their relationship. Niall wasn’t home to let him out of this hellish bathroom, and Harry couldn’t do it, because then Louis wouldn’t be able to whisk him away for a night of wining and dining and popping the question.

 

He sighed. There’d been a lot of that going on in this bathroom recently.

 

**the Seventh (and Final) Stage of Grief: Acceptance**

 

Louis was going on thirty minutes of being stuck in the bathroom (the last twenty of which had been filled with the pornographic soundtrack of the neighbors), and he’d finally given up. His phone was on the kitchen counter, so he couldn’t call Niall to come save him, Harry would be home any minute now, and Louis was trapped in the bathroom. He was curled up in the corner with his head on his knees, just waiting for Harry to go in their room and discover the little velvet box containing the ring he’d so carefully picked out, and there would be no one there for Harry to talk to about the ring and what it so obviously meant.

 

Louis was basically fucked.

 

He was almost asleep, and was trying to tune out all sound (the neighbors had incredible endurance), so he missed the small sound the door made as it opened across the flat. He didn’t hear the small sounds a pair of big feet made as the person walked down the hall. He missed the small call of “Lou?”, and he missed the sound of the neighbors finally finishing their previous activities, but he didn’t miss the sound of the bathroom door opening. He looked up, hope written across his face, and he  _ definitely _ didn’t miss the sound or sight of it closing.

 

“No!” he jumped up and called out, a bit too late, startling Harry, who had just gotten home and went to go for a peaceful piss when he couldn’t find his boyfriend anywhere.

 

“Louis?” Harry squeaked.

 

“Hi, Harry,” Louis sighed. “The door closed.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, confused, “that’s what you do when you’re looking to go wee. You close the door behind you.”

 

Louis nodded sadly. “Don’t I know it.”

 

Harry was still confused. “Not that I’m complaining about having you near me, Lou, but can you maybe explain what you’re doing in the bathroom?”

 

“I got trapped,” Louis responded, “and I was waiting for someone to come rescue me, but now we’re both trapped and our evening plans are ruined.”

 

Harry looked up. “Evening plans?” he asked, a smile starting to overtake the confused expression on his face. “Did you plan a surprise for me, Louis?”

 

Louis looked up and nodded sadly. “It was marvellous, was going to wine and dine you like a proper gentleman and all.”

 

Harry was grinning now, dimples digging into his cheeks. “I really do have to pee, but you are going to tell me all about these plans afterwards.”

 

Louis smiled at him, stepping away as Harry went up to the toilet and started to unzip.

 

“Whipping out your dick already, Styles? Buy a girl a drink first!”

 

Harry laughed and looked back over his shoulder. “We’ve been dating for three years, Lewis. You two are well enough acquainted by now.”

 

Louis laughed fondly at his boy, all crinkly eyes and bright happiness. Nothing to pull you out of your bathroom blues like this shining boy in front of him. It said something about how comfortable they were around each other with how Harry was literally peeing in front of him and neither one was even bothered in the slightest. Fuck, Louis really wanted to marry this kid.

 

Harry finished up and went to wash his hands. Louis slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He leaned his head into the base of Harry’s neck and breathed in the soft curls. He hummed as the taller boy laughed.

 

“How long have you been in here, Lou?”

 

“Dunno. A while,” Louis murmured back. “Me phone’s in the kitchen.”

 

Harry laughed again.

 

“Love you,” Louis whispered.

 

He couldn’t see Harry’s face, but Louis knew there was an impossibly soft smile spreading there as he felt Harry’s hands hold his own. “And I love you,” Harry responded quietly.

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d said that to each other, far from it, actually, but it meant even more now than it did back then. Unbeknownst to the other, each boy was thinking about how much he wanted to be with the other for the rest of their lives. They both smiled fondly, thinking about the rings each had hidden in their room, and  _ hmmmm _ ed at the thought of finally getting to marry the other boy.

 

Louis moved his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder so he could see his love’s face. “What’re you thinking about, love?” he asked softly.

 

Harry’s eyes opened, and Louis almost missed his answer because he was studying Harry’s beautiful face in the mirror above the sink. Seriously, though. It was unfair, really, how attractive he was. He was artfully pale and had these wide, deep green eyes that Louis just got lost in way too often, and his cheekbones were beautiful, but Louis loved most when Harry was smiling, really smiling, because his dimples would pop and his eyes would sparkle and his beautifully pink, plush lips would curve into the most charming smile, and his straight white teeth (the straightest thing about him, if you catch my drift) would show, and --

 

Harry was responding. What had Louis asked? Oh, yeah. 

 

“Just thinking about you,” Harry responded genuinely. Louis’ heart fluttered, and he was confident that Harry could feel it against his back. Louis blushed, and Harry raised a hand to brush Louis’ cheekbone, smiling at their reflections in the mirror.

 

“You’re still the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen,” Harry whispered.

 

“That’s awkward, then,” Louis responded, “because I’ve seen much prettier boys than you.” He spun around and went to walk to the door, but Harry made an amused sound of protest and spun him around, pulling him to his chest.

 

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, mouth not far from Louis’.

 

“Yeah, for sure,” Louis nodded mock-seriously. “Niall, for example-”

 

Harry laughed at that (not that Niall was unattractive, but sure he wasn’t Louis’ type, either. Louis went more for the tall, lanky, hipster types, with long curly hair and pretty green eyes. Harry, basically. He went for Harry). Louis smiled up at his boy and pecked a quick kiss to his mouth. Harry leaned in more when he pulled away and kissed him sweet and long, until they were both more smiling against each other’s mouths than actually kissing.

 

Louis pulled back and set his hands on Harry’s broad chest, smiling fondly as he traced over Harry’s old band t-shirt where he knew the two sparrow tattoos were. He quickly pulled down the collar and kissed each one: the smaller one with the curved eyebrows for him, and the bigger one with the flat eyebrows for his love.

 

He smiled up at Harry when his head popped back up, whose dimples were out full force and whose arms were tight around his waist. Louis poked the deeper dimple in his left cheek and whispered, “Hi.”

 

Harry turned to kiss his hand and whispered back. “Oops.”

 

Louis giggled. “You’re supposed to say hi back, you absolute sap!”

 

Harry smiled. “I thought you’d still appreciated the first words we ever said to each other, especially seeing we’re in a bathroom and all.”

 

Louis smiled and leaned in to give his boy a quick peck. He was so gone for Harry. It was disgustingly cute and he loved every second of being Harry’s. “I did, but that doesn’t make you any less of a sap, Mr. Styles.”

 

Harry laughed. “Only for you, Boo Bear.”

 

Louis groaned at the nickname and buried his head in Harry’s chest. “That’s not true,” he muttered into the t-shirt. “You’re always a sap.”

 

Harry laughed and set his chin on top of his boyfriend’s head, thinking about the engagement ring currently sitting in the pocket of his own blazer in their closet. “Did you get a reservation for tonight?”

 

Louis nodded, listening to Harry’s heartbeat and winding his own arms around Harry’s neck. “That Italian place you like.”

 

Harry laughed. “You call me a sap, but you’ve gone and made a reservation at the place we went to on our first date!”

 

Louis smiled, still listening to Harry’s heartbeat and thinking about the engravement on the ring.  _ Always in my heart. Yours sincerely, Louis. _ “I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve than that,” he muttered.

 

Harry laughed delightedly. “Ooh,” he squealed, “I can’t stand surprises!”

 

Louis sighed happily. “I can’t, love, it’s got to be a surprise,” he responded.

 

Harry groaned excitedly. There was something beautiful about the pleasure-pain Harry got from being denied something.

 

Louis laughed and kissed him again. “Well, if we can get out of here in time, I’d love to take you there for you to see.”

 

Harry smiled. “As much as I love being stuck in the bathroom with you, babe, can we call Niall so you can take me out to my surprise?”

 

Louis laughed. “I don’t have me phone,” he said as he ran his fingers through Harry’s silky curls, “but I am 100% on board with that idea.”

 

Harry smiled into the top of his boyfriend’s feathery hair. “Good thing mine’s in my pocket, then.”

 

Louis snatched it from his pocket and turned it on, smiling at the lockscreen (a selfie of Harry kissing his cheek last Christmas) and punching in the passcode. He called Niall.

 

“Hey, Ni!” he brightly exclaimed.

 

“Louis?” Niall asked. He was far too used to Louis and Harry sharing phones to be anything more than faintly surprised. “Mate, can it wait a second? I’m just in the hallway, got my key out and everything.”

 

“Perfect!” Louis said. “Me and Harry are stuck in the bathroom and I need to whisk him away on a night of romancing, but so far all I’ve been able to do is sit on the floor and listen to the neighbors fuck.”

 

Harry winced from the corner. “Glad I missed that,” he mumbled.

 

Niall was laughing from the other side of the line. “What, that isn’t romantic enough for you two?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Horan,” Louis said, “and come rescue me and my love.”

 

Louis could feel Niall rolling his eyes. “Alright, Lou, I’m opening the door right now.”

 

“Oh, and Niall?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“What time is it?”

 

“It’s almost seven.”

 

“Shit! We have to move fast! Reservations are at 7:15! Thanks, Ni!” and Louis hung up on Niall.

 

He turned to Harry and pecked him on the mouth. “Babe, we gotta move fast if we want to make it on time.”

 

Harry grinned and the door opened behind them.

 

“Uh, hi?” Niall said with his hand on the knob. “Wait, you two weren’t, like, fucking or anything, were you?”

 

Harry laughed and shook his head, but Louis smirked.

 

“Ew!” Niall exclaimed, stepping back from the door. “Ugh, just get out and go to wherever it is you two are going!”

 

Louis laughed and ran past him, hand connected to Harry’s, dragging the giggling boy along.

 

“And clean the bathroom when you get back!” Niall called as they ran into their bedroom.

 

Louis laughed and flew at the closet, pulling out his clothes (and the ring, safely hidden in a pocket) and throwing his other ones off. Harry did the same.

 

Louis was ready first, laughing as Harry struggled to pull his shirt over his head, blazer laying on the bed. Louis stepped right up into his space to help him tug it on and kissed the tip of his nose when his head popped out of the collar.

 

“C’mon, love, we have to hurry!” Louis said once the two were ready after a bit of a struggle pulling Harry’s jacket on (“I don’t remember it being this small.” “You’ve just grown, love, you’re only a little boy!”).

 

The boys ran out the door to Niall’s yell of “Use protection!” from the couch. They flew down the stairs and dashed to Harry’s car, jumping at every holdup in the streets as Louis tapped the box in his pocket in nervousness.

 

They made it to the restaurant just in time, jumping out of the car and just remembering to lock it before rushing into the restaurant and quickly fixing their hair before calmly walking up to the front.

 

“Reservation for Tomlinson?” Louis said.

 

“Right this way,” the hostess said, whisking them into the restaurant and taking them to a nice table for two in the back.

 

As they sat down, Harry was grinning ear to ear.    
  


“Even the same table from our first date, Lou? And you say  _ I’m _ the sap!” But if the grin on his face was any indicator, Harry was loving every sappy moment of this.

 

Louis grinned. “You love it.”

 

Harry sighed and just smiled at him. “I love you,” he said quietly.

 

Louis smiled just as softly back. “I love you more.”

 

Harry shook his head, curls swaying. “That isn’t even possible. There’s no such thing as someone loving anything more than I love you, Louis.”

 

Louis smiled wider than he thought possible. That was a good way to explain how things were when he had Harry, though. He just kept smiling wider and wider until it stretched to regions of fond he didn’t even know existed until then. “Impossible, Styles!” he said. “I love you for an infinite stretch of anything. I love you so much I don’t even know what to do with myself!”

 

Harry grinned, eyes sparkling and mouth about to retort, when the waiter stepped up to them. They looked up at him as he asked what they wanted to drink.

 

(In case you wanted to know, what was on the tip of Harry’s tongue was  _ “Marry me.” _ )

 

Louis smiled up at the waiter and ordered a nice red wine as Harry watched him. He admired the line of his jaw, the glint of his eyes, the shadow under his cheekbones, the scruff of his beard (he’d probably meant to shave that earlier, but got distracted. Harry didn’t mind. He liked the stubble, and he liked the red burn it left on the inside of his thighs when he woke up in the morning sometimes). Louis was really breathtaking.

 

Louis was looking at him. Harry started a little. The corners of Louis’ mouth lifted in a small smile.

 

“What’re you thinking about?”

 

Harry blushed and ducked his head. “You.”

 

Now it was Louis’ turn to blush.

 

Harry smiled and looked at him through his eyelashes. “Just… sitting and admiring what you’re like.”

 

Louis bashfully looked up at his boyfriend. God, he loved this boy. He was almost ready to abandon his awfully romantic plan and just propose right there. Louis was literally so close to just sinking down to one knee right then and there, but he had to make it special for the love of his life. He was pretty confident that Harry would say yes even if he had proposed that morning a week ago when he’d woken up to Harry staring at him and was tempted to show Harry how much he wanted that for the rest of his life, or even earlier that day in the bathroom with a fucking toilet paper tube for a ring. But Louis had to make it as special as he could for Harry, because Harry deserved the best and nothing less. He was already in awe that this angel had decided to spend his time with Louis, and he was ready to give anything and everything to this boy for as long as he could.

 

So he couldn’t derail his plan on a whim, and he needed to keep himself from ruining it somehow. Louis, blush still firmly painting his cheeks a delicate pink no matter how he tried to will it away (Harry had that effect on him), shifted and grabbed Harry’s hands in his own across the table. He looked straight into the other boys eyes.

 

“Do you even know how fond I am of you, Harry Styles?”

 

He saw the happiness giving Harry’s eyes an extra sparkle, and he saw his cheeks lift in a grin. Harry loved it when Louis told him how much he loved him, and there really was an alarmingly small number of things Louis wouldn’t do to see him look as happy as he did when Louis expressed his feelings.

 

Lois shook his head happily. “Yesterday I was on the phone trying to ask Niall to buy some food at the grocery store and I got distracted thinking about you and the food you love and how the only thing I can even make without horrible consequences is a sandwich but you treat it like it’s some sort of gourmet lasagna like you make and I just love you so much that I stood there for five minutes before realizing Niall had hung up on me.”

 

Harry blushed and looked away. “You’re so sappy, Lou.”

 

Louis laughed. “You love it.”

 

Harry sighed and quickly leaned across the table to peck him on the mouth. “I really do,” he sighed.

 

The two just stared at each other for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes (as cliche as that is). Louis sighed. How was he so lucky to have this godly boy sitting across the table from him? How was he so lucky as to be able to call him his? Someone up there was truly looking out for him.

 

“Niall was right,” Louis said. “We are just a pair of disgustingly cute saps.”

 

Harry laughed. “Of course we are,” he said. “We’re basically already that cute old couple that sits on benches in the park and walks around grocery stores holding hands.”

 

Louis laughed. “I’d like to think we’re prettier than a pair of old people.”

 

Harry laughed. “I don’t mind; I want to be that couple with you.”

 

Louis smiled even wider at his sparkly boy. (How was that even physically possible at this point???)

 

Harry saw and smiled even wider than he was, which was already really wide, and his dimples deepened even further. (They are too happy and cute I cannot believe this shit.)

 

The waiter stepped up to their table with their wine and filled their cups while asking their order. Louis nodded, and the waiter set the wine bottle down on the table and pulled out his order pad. Harry scrambled to pick up the menu, but Louis was already ordering for the both of them.

 

“We’ll have a large plate of spaghetti with sauce and meatballs and everything.” He waved his hand at the menu and smiled.

 

“We’ll have it out soon,” the waiter said, smiling politely as he picked up their menus and walked back to the kitchen.

 

Harry was grinning at Louis with stars in his eyes when Louis turned back to him.

 

“Spaghetti?” Harry asked. “Like our first date? Like  _ Lady and the Tramp _ ?”

 

Louis grinned and him and leaned forward on the table, picking up his wine glass. “Oh yeah, Styles. Get ready for some hardcore romancing.”

 

Harry laughed and kissed him. “I dunno,” he said, “The bar’s been set kind of high.” He inspected his fingernails in a mock-haughty manner. “I don’t know if you’ll live up to my expectations.”

 

Louis gasped. “Oh, just you wait, Harold. I am gonna romance you so hard.”

 

Harry laughed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Louis laughed.

 

“You’re ridiculous! But maybe later we can get to that.”

 

Harry grinned and sipped his wine. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

 

The banter went on for a while, interspersed with sickeningly sweet soulmate talk until their dinner came out.

 

The pair ate their dinner happily (and recreated that scene from  _ Lady and the Tramp _ ) and by the time dessert had come and gone, they were sitting contently across from each other, slightly tipsy off the wine and each other with their fingers tangled together.

 

“Lou, that was amazing,” Harry grinned happily. “Not gonna be able to eat for another week, ‘m so full.”

 

Louis smiled back, whipped and powerless against it. “Would you like to go on a nice walk to work off all that expensive Italian food?”

 

Harry smiled as he stood, hand remaining firmly in Louis’. “I would love to.”

 

Louis grinned and pulled him out side, both giggling as they emerged into the chilly London air. He pressed a hand to the small of Harry’s back, keeping his boy close to his side, and Harry pressed a sweet kiss to his shoulder over his jacket. Louis began to steer them down the sidewalk to the relatively close park. There was another, closer, park just two blocks down the other way, but he needed to get to this one specifically.

 

Suddenly, Louis was nervous. He couldn’t know what was going to happen, and doubt suddenly flooded him. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he couldn’t even bring himself to ask? What if he couldn’t work it into the conversation and the ring just kept burning a hole into his hip for the rest of his life? What if he never worked up the courage to ask and Harry left him for a less stagnant relationship? He felt the chill of the night and the fog suddenly, and his jacket felt two sizes too big. He thumbed the small box in its pocket. Worry swirled around Louis head and his brows furrowed. It was normal to be nervous before a proposal, he knew, but maybe it was a sign. He should’ve asked earlier, and now it was too late and he had to save this while he still could. Louis looked up at Harry and opened his mouth to ask him to marry him.

 

Harry interrupted him before he could even begin, smoothing a thumb over his forehead and asking if he was okay.

 

Louis smiled at Harry, hand shoved in his pocket and gripping the velvet box. “Yeah, love, just feeling a little weird. Must be the weather. Nothing a nice walk and some fresh air can’t solve!”

 

Harry nodded and pecked his mouth. “Where are we even going?” he asked.

 

Louis drew to a stop as they approached the sign and the park itself. He gestured ahead at it and Harry’s eyes widened as a smile bloomed across his mouth.

 

He looked back at Louis, whose eyes were already trained on Harry’s face (where else could he ever look, anyway?). Harry’s eyes sparkled as he said more than asked, “The park where I told you I loved you for the first time?”

 

Louis nodded back, beaming. “And where I told you I loved you, too for the first time.”

 

Harry leaned in right there and kissed him languidly. Louis laughed as he pulled back after a second. “What about my fresh air?”

 

Harry laughed. “There are more important things.”

 

Louis smiled but lightly pushed him back as Harry leaned in again, as much as it pained him to deny those plump lips, made shiny and redder by kissing, anything.

 

“Let’s walk, please, love.”

 

Harry squeezed his hand (they hadn’t let go since the restaurant) and followed Louis down into the grassy area.

 

They walked for a while, conversation flowing quietly, just enjoying the nice night and each other.

 

Louis was looking for an opening to drop to his knee and propose, but it was harder than he’d thought, and he was getting increasingly nervous, to the degree that it was amazing that Harry didn’t notice -- although Harry had the very same reason for not realizing Louis’ bout of nerves.

 

The conversation steered to something domestic as they saw a cat run out of a huge oak tree in front of them, and Louis realized his chance was approaching.

 

“Of course we’ll have at least one cat when we live alone, Lou, you know the kids would love that, not to mention how happy I’d be,” Harry was saying.

 

Louis laughed. “What if I’m more of a dog person, Hazza?”

 

Harry laughed as well and swatted him on the shoulder. “I know you aren’t, you knob, we’ve had this same conversation so many times already!”

 

Louis laughed. “We’ve really got it down, haven’t we? The number of kids --”

 

“-- At least four, but you know I’m leaning for twelve, a proper brood --” Harry interrupted.

 

Louis continued without missing a beat, his shoulder bumping into Harry’s the only indication that he’d heard him. “-- and our house --”

 

“-- it’s gonna have to be big and have a good kitchen and a nice backyard for all the kids, and so you can play footie with them in the back --”

 

“-- and it’s obvious who’s going to do all the cooking --”

 

“Me.”

 

“-- and all the cleaning up after --”

 

“Me again,” Harry said, laughing as Louis swatted him.

 

“I mean, Haz, we’ve already got the rest of our lives basically planned out,” Louis said, slowly stopping beside Harry in front of the big oak they’d seen earlier. “There’s really only one step left before it can all happen.”

 

He went down on one knee and pulled out the ring in its box, biting his lip as Harry gasped and his hands went to his mouth prettily.

 

“Harry Edward Styles, I love you so fucking much and I wanted to give you a nice speech about it and now I’ve fucked it all up by saying ‘fuck’ twice,” Louis said seriously as Harry giggled, eyes shining with joyful tears, “but the fact still remains that I love you so, so much, and I have for the last five years, even before I told you, and it’s just grown every fucking day since then, and  _ god _ , Harry, I’ve wanted to marry you and have babies with you for so long, and I’ve had to stop myself from proposing four times today alone, and Harry, please will you marry me?”

 

Harry was full on weeping now, and he didn’t say a word for a moment. Dread pooled in Louis’ chest until he was nearly drowning with it.

 

Harry started to laugh, and confusion colored Louis’ disquiet. Harry started nodding violently, grinning so widely it was visible underneath his giant hands and dropping to his knees to be level with Louis.

 

Louis looked down with wide eyes and smiled at him. “Yes?”

 

Harry grinned back. “Yes, yes, of course, always,” he repeated as he threw himself into Louis’ arms, kissing all over his face and his mouth.

 

Louis kissed him back, laughing, exhilarated and sparkling.

 

Louis pulled back to slip the ring onto his fiance’s finger, eyes only glancing down at the ring as he tried to watch Harry’s face, who in turn was just staring fondly at Louis with shining eyes.

 

Louis grabbed his ring finger, but the ring wouldn’t go on right.

 

He frowned slightly and looked down at their fingers. Louis gasped when he saw a completely unfamiliar ring there. He looked up at Harry so quickly his neck cracked. Harry was still looking down, shock on his face.

 

“What?” Louis asked.

 

Harry started to laugh. “How did you get that?” he asked earnestly. “It was in my pocket!”

 

Louis’ jaw dropped when the sentence finally processed in his head. “Your pocket?”

 

Harry nodded, and reached into his jacket. “I was going to propose to you on this date!” he laughed and pulled a box out of his jacket. “Wait, what’s this?”

 

Louis grabbed it from him and opened it. “It’s yours,” he whispered.

 

Harry fell into an awed silence as he saw the ring Louis had picked out for him. It was a simple silver band with small inlaid stones, colored a light blue, and it was absolutely perfect.

 

“Oh, Lou,” he whispered as Louis slid the ring onto his ring finger. “Louis, it’s perfect. I love it. I love you.”

 

Harry smiled as he leaned in and kissed Louis, sweeter than the slight taste of the chocolate dessert they’d shared half an hour ago.

 

He grabbed the ring from Louis’ fingers and held it up to his face. “This is for you.”

 

Fresh tears shone in Louis’ eyes as he watched, entranced as Harry gently slid the band onto his ring finger. He held up his hand when it was properly nestled, Harry’s hands still lightly grabbing his forearm.

 

It was thin and pretty, a delicate silver with a single, dark blue stone in the middle.

 

Louis kissed Harry, because it was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, really.

 

When they pulled back for air, eyes shut and foreheads leaned together, Louis ran a hand over Harry’s shoulder, admiring the glint of the ring in the dim lights from the lamp overhead.

 

Harry giggled a little. “No wonder that ring didn’t fit on me,” he breathed. “Your hands are so small and dainty.”

 

“Hey,” Louis protested in a way that suggested he wasn’t really offended at all, “my hands are not dainty! Just because you have giant ogre hands…”

 

Harry laughed again. “You love my giant ogre hands. I remember, you told me so last night.”

 

Louis smacked his shoulder with a little sound of protest, but he was laughing as well.

 

As the laughter died out, the two boys were left sitting quietly in the grass, holding each other tightly. It was a comfortable silence, and Louis wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier than he was right now, with his bum on the cold ground and his favorite boy in his arms.

 

Harry tilted his head a little. “But how did you even get my ring?”

 

Louis opened his eyes and looked into Harry’s confused ones. “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Yours has been in my jacket pocket for weeks.”

 

He brushed his fingers over Harry’s shoulder again, and looked down at it. His eyes widened and he grinned, looking back up at Harry through crinkled eyes.

 

“That’s my jacket!” he laughed. “You’re wearing my jacket!”

 

Harry looked down, then at Louis’ jacket. “And that’s mine!”

 

The two boys started giggling, laughing at their own ridiculousness and just from how utterly joyful they were in that moment.

 

“I love you,” Louis breathed into Harry’s mouth.

 

“I love you, too,” Harry breathed back before kissing him again, somehow even softer than the last ones had been.

  
And as they sat on the dirty ground in a cold park under the dim light of a streetlamp, huddled together somewhat uncomfortably and kissing, fingers newly adorned with declarations of love, Louis knew that he had never been happier than he was right now.


	2. bonus content

Later, when Harry and Louis stumbled over each other's limbs back into the apartment, giggling and glancing at their rings, Harry would be especially excited to show his off to Niall. He'd call his name, but the only sound in response was the sound of the neighbors' bed echoing through the bathroom door, banging against the wall again.

Harry would open the door to Niall's room as Louis rolled his eyes fondly, dropping his jacket on the kitchen counter.

"He's not asleep in bed or watching football," Harry would say. "Where could he even be this late?"

"Babe, if you really can't wait 'till tomorrow, just call him," Louis would say.

Harry, in response, pulls out his phone and taps a few keys quickly as Louis walks into their shared bedroom, kicking his shoes off as he goes, and putting on his glasses.

Harry's still tapping as Louis returns to the bedroom doorway, just watching his fiancé fondly.

It's quiet, aside from the constant _thud_ sfrom next door, but it's nice.

Then Harry brings the phone up to his ear, and a new sound joins the night. The ringing of a cell phone next door. More specifically, the ringing of _Niall's_ cell phone,  next door, in the bedroom that shares a wall with their bathroom.

Harry's eyes will widen at the same time as Louis', and they'll turn to look at each other in unison, Harry still holding the phone to his ear.

It'll start with Louis smirking, then Harry grinning, and soon enough the two of them will be laughing, surely loud enough that Niall and their neighbor will hear them. Not that they're worried about pissing off the neighbors, anyway.

You know what they say. Karma's a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading I love you all !!
> 
> Also it's shameless self promotion time, so I'm on tumblr @vanillabeanniall if you want to kick my ass or anything (I know I do)


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